Time and Again

fraction, then a little more. Her face was no longer pressed between his shoulder blades.
    "What do you think?"
    She could nearly breathe again. It seemed her stomach had decided to stay in place. At least for the moment. She opened one eye for a cautious look. And swallowed hard.
    "I think I'm going to murder you the minute we're on the ground again."
    "Relax." The cycle tilted thirty degrees right, then left, as he danced through the trees.
    Easy for him to say, she thought. Another look showed her that they were more than ten feet above the ground. She gasped, nearly managed to squeal out a demand to be set down, but then it hit her. She was flying. Not enclosed in some huge, bulky plane thousands of feet up, but freely, lightly. She could feel the wind on her face, in her hair, could taste the promise of spring on it. There was no loud roar of engine noise to disturb the sensation. They were skimming through the forest as playfully as birds.
    He stopped in the center of the clearing his ship had created. While the bike hovered, he turned to look at her.
    "Want me to go down?"
    "No. Up." She laughed and tossed her head back. She had already felt the pull of the sky.
    He was grinning when he leaned back to kiss her. "How high?"
    "What's the limit?"
    "I don't know, but I don't think we ought to chance it. If we go up above the trees, somebody might spot us."
    He was right, of course. Libby pushed her hair out of her face, wondering why she seemed to have so little sense when she was around him. "To the treetops, then. Just once."
    Delighted with her, he turned around. He felt her arms hook firmly around him, and then they were flying again.
    He'd never forget. However many times he had taken to sky and space, however many times he would yet take to them, he would never forget this one playful flight with Libby. She was laughing, and the sound of it caressed his ear as her body pressed companionably against his. Her fingers were linked loosely at his waist. His only regret was that he couldn't watch her face as they rose up and up. Making love with her was like this, as clean and clear as cutting through the air. As mystifying and seductive as defying gravity.
    He resisted the temptation to crest the trees, contenting himself, and her, with gliding around the thick branches at a hundred feet. Below they could see a thin stream that cut through the rock, and a waterfall, driven by the spring rain and the snowmelt that danced down the ridge and fell into space. The sun pushed through the clouds so that they could watch the pattern of shadows shift on the ground below.
    For a moment they both turned their faces to the sky and wished.
    He slowed for their descent, and they seemed to drift downward, weightless, soundless. Libby felt her hair lift off her neck, teased by the air currents. She thought pleasantly of Peter Pan and fairy dust before they touched down lightly beside the ship.
    "Okay?"
    When he turned to look over his shoulder, Libby noticed that the faint hum had stopped. The chill had vanished. "It was wonderful. I could have stayed up all day."
    "Flying's habit-forming." No one knew that better than he. He swung off, then took her hand. "I'm glad you liked it."
    It was over, Libby told herself when she felt her feet on solid ground again. But she had one more memory to store away. "I loved it. I'm not going to ask you how it works. I doubt I'd understand anyway, and it might spoil the fun." With her hand still caught in his, she looked at the ship. Her feelings about it were as confused as the rest of her emotions. It had brought him to her, and it would take him away. "I'll let you get to work."
    Cal was dealing with the same tug-of-war himself. "I'll be back around nightfall."
    "All right." She took her hand from his, then stuck it restlessly in her pocket. "You won't have any trouble finding your way?"
    "I'm a good navigator."
    "Of course." The birds they had frightened away with their ride were beginning to sing again. Time was slipping by. "Well, I'd better go."
    He knew she was stalling, but then, so was he. It was stupid, Cal told himself. He would be with her again in a matter of hours. "You could come in with me, but I don't think I'd get a lot done."
    It was tempting. She could go inside, distract him, keep him away from the computer and the answers for a few more hours. But it wouldn't be right. Libby looked up at him again as all the love and the longing welled up inside her.
    "I haven't gotten